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Authors: Brian Lumley

The House of Doors - 01 (17 page)

BOOK: The House of Doors - 01
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They’d reached the mansion just as the sun was preparing to touch the purple rim of the distant escarpment, which was also when Haggie chose to commence her subjugation. “It can’t wait,” he’d hoarsely grunted, coming up behind her where she sat on a stone at the foot of the mansion’s wall. And as she heard the naked lust in his voice, her eyes had widened and she’d turned her head to look up at him.
“What?” she had said, unable to credit that he’d try something in a place and at a time like this. She had loosened the knot of her makeshift halter, was examining the burning gash in her shoulder. Strangely, it seemed to be healing very quickly; while still purple and a little puffy, it was no longer so stiff as to incapacitate her.
“You flash your tits about like that and ask me what? This is what!” As he tore the halter from her back and she jumped to her feet, he showed her what he’d been saving for her, throbbing where he worked it with one hand. “Now’s the time, Angie doll,” he told her. “My way!”
But after that business with the spider thing, Angela had armed herself with the whiplike branch of a thorn tree. She’d kept it close to hand and now snatched it up. Maybe Haggie had thought she was spineless, that she wouldn’t dare. But she did. She whipped him back away from her, out of range, where he danced and hooted his delight at this unexpected sport. “Hoo! Hoo! But it’s going to feel really nice when I slip it in, Angie doll! This is my little slippy-stick, see? Biggest muscle in my whole blood body!”
And then she’d run from him around the square base of the mansion. Behind her, he’d laughed all the harder and let her go; but in a little while, curious, he’d come looking for her. “You’ll be back,” she had heard him calling, “when it gets dark and they start howling and fighting. But don’t leave it too long or I might not be here.”
At the back of the mansion Angela had found a slender tree with many branches, standing alone in a position close to the wall. The upper half of its trunk leaned inwards, dangling lesser branches and leaves over the high balcony. As a girl she’d been something of a tomboy and could handle trees well enough. She’d launched her thorn-tree weapon like a spear onto the first tier, then scrambled up the tree to comparative safety—from Haggie, at least.
Haggie had found the tree eventually and even tried to climb up after her. But she’d lashed him around the head and shoulders and had the satisfaction of seeing his blood; and then, snarling, he’d retreated back down to ground level. From which time until now he’d wasted no slightest opportunity to taunt and terrorize her … .
 
C
oming in from the heath in the gathering dusk, Gill and Turnbull heard most of it. If Angela had chosen to look in their direction, where they deliberately kept a low profile, still she just might have seen them; her first-storey vantage point was a good one, giving her a more or less clear view over the scrub all around. But she was more interested in Haggie; or rather, in holding him at bay.
“Well, Angie darling, what’s it to be?” he called up to her from the foot of the mansion. “Are you going to wait up there for the bats? Or would you prefer me?”
“Bats?” Her answer was a gasp. It was the first time she’d spoken to him at all since climbing up here, and even now the word sprang from her before she could stop it. Haggie guessed he’d bit on a sore point.
He shrugged. “They fly like bats, anyway. Something like ’em. All leathery wings and big ears. But after that they’re more like. snakes. Long, whiplash bodies. Oh, yes,” he added, as if on afterthought, “and they’re big. Big as large house cats. Couldn’t say what they eat. I was only here once and I didn’t wait to find out. Nor will I this time. You’d better come on down.”
She looked nervously all about in the darkening sky. The sun’s exit had left a shrinking glow in the west over the dark, elongated mass of the far escarpment. But to the south … sure enough she could make out a cloud of gnatlike aerial shapes darting this way and that. They were a long way off but seemed to be coming closer. “Oh!” It was the second time a word had made its involuntary escape.
“Oh?” he repeated her mockingly from below, his voice echoing out into the expanding silence of dusk. “So you see them, do you? That doesn’t give you much time then, sweetie. Now come on down before they get here. I mean, I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know what the hell they are, but you can bet your backside they’re not nice. That is, unless you can think of a better use for that sweet little backside of yours. I certainly can!”
She looked down at him uncertainly, and again at the darting dots in the sky. From somewhere in the forest a far, faint howling reached her—was taken up and answered from another direction—and again from a third.
“The howlers,” said Haggie unnecessarily. “But that’s not all they do! That’s why I’m waiting. When they eat, I eat.” He chuckled obscenely. “And you, too, if you want to. You have to eat sometime, if you want to stay on your toes. And good red meat is scarce around here, until the howlers scare some up.” Again his obscene chuckle. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough—that is, if you’re still around.”
Angela thought fast. She could try one last time to reason with him. Whether it worked or not, he’d win in the end anyway, because she knew he was right and she couldn’t stay up here indefinitely, a sitting duck in the growing darkness. “If I thought you could behave more like a man,” she started, “instead of a dog, then maybe I … I …”
Now his voice turned sour. “Listen, Angie: I’ve shot my load twice in my pants just thinking about having you. So you’re okay from that point of view—for a little while. But I’m telling you, you can’t stay up there. Shortly the howlers will be hunting, and what they hunt will run this way. The howlers don’t much care for this place, but they won’t hold back forever. Now I know which of these doors is which. Some of ’em anyway. I’ll just grab up a little food—on the hoof, you know?—and get the hell right out of here. If you’re down here with me, all well and good. We eat, you carry right on living, and tomorrow can take care of itself. But if you’re still up there, you face the howlers, the bats, whatever.”
She shook her head desperately, looked this way and that. He knew he very nearly had her.
“Also,” he quickly continued, “I know the place where I’m going. It’s not good there but it’s not the worst. Except I’ll make sure you don’t see which door I use. So if you do make it down after I’ve gone, you won’t know
where
I’ve gone. You won’t be able to follow. Of course, you can always choose just any old door. But you’re not stupid—you could have done that already. And you’d better believe me when I tell you that most of these doors lead straight to hell!”
Gill couldn’t take any more of this. “It’s okay now, Angela,” he said, stepping out of the shadow of the wall. “You can come down.” Then he turned towards Haggie.
At the sound of his voice the little redhead had drawn breath in a gasp, stooped and picked up a rock. He swung it at Gill’s head. Ready for him, Gill ducked, straightened up and slammed a fist into his mouth. Swatted from his feet, Haggie went down—and bounced back to his feet just as quickly. He edged around Gill, ran past him along the front of the mansion.
Turnbull was waiting for him. The big man grew up like a huge dark blot out of the wall, grabbed Haggie by the neck with one massive hand. “Little man,” he growled, “I’d say you’re in trouble!” He bent Haggie’s arm up behind his back until he howled, frog-marched him back to Gill.
Taking careful aim, Gill hit Haggie again, hard and deliberate, flattening his nose. But this time when Haggie hit the ground he didn’t come up. He simply lay there and moaned. Gill sat down on him and asked Turnbull, “Can you get her down?”
Meanwhile Angela had burst into tears of relief. “Oh, Spencer, Jack! I—”
“It’s okay,” Turnbull growled. “Don’t say anything. We can imagine. Listen, can you climb over the balcony and lower yourself down? If you can, I’ll be able to reach up and grab your legs.”
“Round the back,” she gasped, trying hard to regain control of herself. “There’s a tree.”
“Angela,” said Turnbull quietly, “forget the tree. Just do as I say, right?” He had seen dark shapes descending out of the amethyst sky, a cloud of them that squirted like a school of winged squid, crisscrossing the first stars. She knew from his tone of voice something was wrong, glanced up and saw them. Haggie’s “bats.” In another moment she was over the parapet, on her knees, lowering herself to her fingertips. Turnbull got her, said, “Let go.” She fell into his arms, hugged close to him a moment, then turned to Gill.
Haggie raised his head and spat out dirt. Gill dispassionately hit him again, behind the ear, and stood up. Turnbull stepped close to the sprawled Haggie and put a foot in the middle of his back. “Just stay put, not-so-Smart Alec,” he said, “or I’ll smash your spine.” And knowing he would, Haggie lay very still.
Meanwhile, Angela had flown into Gill’s arms. “Oh, Spencer, Spencer!”
“Did he … ?” He let the question hang unspoken.
“No,” she sobbed, shaking her head in the hollow of Gill’s shoulder. “He wanted to, would have, but—”
“He tried?”
“He … I found a way up there. I was safe there.”
“It’s okay, then.” Gill felt his heart slowing down, the adrenaline settling in his system. “I won’t have to kill him. But if he had, then I would have.” If Haggie heard all of this, he was saying nothing.
Gill could have held on to the girl forever, but he knew they didn’t have even the smallest fraction of that. “Jack,” he said, “get that little bastard up onto his feet.”
Turnbull hauled Haggie upright but held on to him. “No running away,” he warned him. “If you make me chase you, I’ll fix it so you can’t run, right?” Haggie hung his head, remained sullenly silent. Turnbull shook him until his head nearly came loose. “Right?” he said again, louder, after he’d stopped shaking.
Haggie nodded. “But listen—” he babbled.
“You listen,” Gill cut him short. “First off, there are things we need to know. And no more bullshit about information being valuable. It is, if you value your own skin. See, we’ve had it with you. You try to make a profit—all sorts of profit—out of threats and blackmail. You’d bargain with people for their lives and their bodies, even their souls, if you could. Okay, so we’ve learned from you and learned fast. So try this on for a threat: if we’re going to die in this place, be sure you’re going first. Got it?”
Turnbull tightened his grip on Haggie.
Haggie gulped. “Got it,” he said. Blood dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth.
“And don’t bleed on me,” said Turnbull. “I’m particular.”
There were scraping sounds from above, claws scrabbling at smooth stone, where things were landing on the square of the topmost tier. Bat wings furled down, and a line of leathery, big-eared gargoyles looked down on the group of human beings. They were perched on the edge of the top tier, cat eyes glowing gold in black silhouette faces. Angela hissed her terror, shrank back into Gill’s arms.
Gill held her tightly and said to Haggie, “These bat things—you didn’t say if they were dangerous. Are they?”
“I don’t know,” Haggie answered. “I was on my own last time. They didn’t bother me, just sat watching me.”
Turnbull gave him a quick shake. “You mean you were only using them to frighten the girl into coming down?”
“Yes,” Haggie said. “I mean, no! Christ, I don’t know! They could be dangerous, couldn’t they? Almost everything else is. Anyway, I wasn’t going to hurt the girl. I only … wanted company?”
“You ugly little … .” Gill released Angela and moved to hit him yet again, but Turnbull intervened.
“Don’t you think he should be conscious?” he said, with no reproof but simple common sense in his voice. He didn’t have Gill’s involvement. “Let me talk to him.” And to Haggie: “Alec, son, what about the howlers? Are they dangerous?”
Haggie looked up at him. “Son?”
Turnbull grinned. “I never married,” he said. “Any sons of mine are bastards!” The grin slipped from his face. “The howlers?”
“Dangerous?” Haggie gabbled. “Damned right they are! They hunt and kill, and as night comes down they get braver. You can bet they know we’re here, but they’ll wait until it’s really dark before they move in.”
“Really dark?” said Gill. “With stars like these?” He glanced at the sky, which was beginning to blaze. “It doesn’t get really dark! We’ve seen that.”
“It gets dark enough.” Haggie shivered. “The howlers are … black things. A dull, rubbery black. They don’t reflect the starlight. You’ll see what I mean.”
“When will we see?” Gill pressed him.
“Soon. They hunt in packs, and what they hunt might head this way. Last time I was here, I caught one of them. Then, like now, I was starving. And in this whole damned place—in this entire fucking maze of horrible places—there’s only a handful of things you can eat that will stay eaten! But you can eat what the howlers hunt, and it’s good. Right now my belly button’s making love to my spine. I
need
to eat, and soon! If I didn’t … believe me, I’d already be out of here.”
Gill stared hard at him. “You’d face down howlers, bats—even take your chances with that thing that’s hunting you—all for a bite to eat?”
“Face them down?” Haggie shook his head. “Take chances with that damned thing that’s tracking me?” He looked nervously all about, and his bloodied face was frowning. “What the hell’s wrong with you people, anyway? Don’t
you
ever eat? I told you, the only reason I’m still here is the chance of a free meal. But if anything nasty comes too close, I’ll just duck right out of it!”
“Through which door?” Gill was quick off the mark, giving no warning of what was on his mind. And he watched Haggie’s eyes.
The little man didn’t even blink. “You’re standing right in front of it,” he said.
Gill glanced over his shoulder at the nearest of the marble-slab doors. “This one, number seven?”
Haggie shrugged. “Why else would I be this close to it?”
“Just be sure you don’t try to get any closer,” Turnbull warned. “Not just yet, anyway.”
Throughout this conversation the howling in the forest and on the plain had been drawing closer, louder and more insistent. Suddenly, from somewhere out in the scrub, there sounded a thundering of small hooves and a shrill, terrified shrieking, all accompanied by renewed peals of howling and a savage grunting. For a little while, just out beyond the sphere of vision, the night seemed alive with activity; but after a few moments the sounds of the stampede—the hunt?—faded into distance.
Haggie seemed disappointed and struggled in Turnbull’s grasp. “Let go of me!” he demanded. “That’s our supper out there—meat on the hoof—and if any more of it heads this way, I want to get my hands on some!”
BOOK: The House of Doors - 01
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